Dissent
by LuteLyre
Summary: You would've. But you didn't. Anko Drabble.


A/N: Dark and crazy, and not my usual characters, but I still had fun writing this one. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: T for violence and language.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Damn.

Pairing: No pairing really. But the characters are Orochimaru and Anko, so we know that there is going to be some pedophilia and sneakiness with things that slither. XD

**Dissent**

_What big eyes you have Grandmother._

You would've said no.

You would've, you really would've.

You aren't the type of person to just lie there and _take_ it.

You would've said no.

But you couldn't know, and you wanted to know, and this was the only way that your curiosity could be satisfied. he'd said it was.

So,

You didn't.

And then there were fingers around your neck and teeth in your neck and it was burning, and blurring, and hurting like there were a hundred million suns and knives digging into your skin, and it was as though you were dying, and dying, and dying again.

Wheel of life, reincarnation, (only you don't believe in that shit) and every single time you're born you die again with a flash of heat and a scream.

And when you had died a hundred times, you lived again.

You don't remember those first few moments of your hundred and first life. You don't like to think about it. When you die a hundred times, you can't really focus on the hundred and first life's first few moments, because for all you know, you could be about to topple over the edge again.

But you don't.

So you open your eyes (gritty and dirty and scummed with tears and worse) and you open your mouth (and you don't want to think about how that tastes right now) and you see his eyes watching you.

Gold and purple and swallow-grey skin that you used to run your little fingers over, back when you were a child, only a hundred lives ago, and feel like maybe you had somewhere to stand if those eyes were looking at you.

His voice slithers over you like snakeskin, cold and scaly.

"You did well Anko-chan."

You don't think you're a child anymore.

Children, in your limited experience dealing with them, didn't understand the concept of living and dying, let alone that same concept set on rinse and repeat. Children don't have that capacity.

But you know what just happened to you, so you can't be a child. Whatever that really means anyway.

You wouldn't know all that much because if you ever were a child, (and you think you were, you know you should've been, but the only memories you have of that are strung out and tattered and melted down with a teachers voice pressing in the background,) what sort of child were you?

A fucked one.

And then someone's (You know it's his, you _know_ it.) tongue comes down, down, down, and its way too long. Longer than it's ever been before, and it's slimy as it reaches for your neck and you cower away, because your skin there is the last place that you are ever touching again, ever seeing again, ever feeling again.

Ever.

But it reaches for you, and it touches you with its cold and wet slickness, and you really want to faint. But you're not a fucking baby.

The gold keeps watching you with its glass pupils and its purple edges.

And maybe for the first time in your short new life, and all the lives before that, you see those inside those eyes, to some twisting, madness that curls and churns crazy behind a shield.

And everything but your neck (which you're not thinking about) goes cold.

You don't recognize anymore.

"Sensei-?"

Your throat doesn't like speaking, but you're not a fucking weakling, so you make it talk. Because Sensei doesn't look like Sensei anymore, doesn't look like the quiet, sharp-edged smile that would sometimes filter down at you when you did something right, doesn't look like the hand that would land on your shoulder before you slept, doesn't look like the eyes that would glow at you from the darkness with something that might've reminded you of affection, if you knew what that looked like.

Snakes whispering through branches and grass and dead leaves, and hisses shaking in your ears like a baby rattle, and maybe you wish you knew how to speak to snakes, but he hasn't taught you how yet.

"Sssshh Anko-chan, we're not done yet."

But Gods you wish we were done, wish we were done a hundred lives ago, because it fucking hurts, everything hurts, and you can see it in his eyes that he knows it does. You can see in his eyes that maybe you were wrong, and you didn't want to know, and you never want to know anything anymore, but just want to curl up and die and die and die until your lives don't feel like scales on your throat and flames on your skin.

His mouth is reaching down and his tongue is curling down, and he gets closer and closer, blurry around the edges with gold in the middle and purple streaks flaring out and crazy all over. His mouth gets so near you can smell the ice on his breath.

And then his lips are covering yours and his hands on your neck and nails digging in, into your neck that burns and oh all fucking hells of the gods it hurts and hurts and hurts.

You're dying again. Your hundred and first life is floating away on a sea that washes and drags you down, and snakes are opening gaping maws to chew you up and spit you back out again in to your hundred and second life which will be just as wrong and screwed as all your others.

Their fangs are glinting sliver and their eyes are shining crazy lunatic gold.

He always was mad. But he was Genius. And he was all you had.

You want to say no.

You would've said no. You really would've.

You aren't the type of person to just lie there and _take_ it.

You would've said no.

But no ones ever said no before, and you loved him, you really did; a hundred and one lives ago. you loved your Sensei, because no one else was going to love you, and no one else was really going to love him either, and you knew that as long as you had him, and you did what he said, always and forever, than you wouldn't really be safe, and you wouldn't call yourself happy, but you'd have a place in the world.

So,

You didn't.

X

_Fin_

X

A/N: Wow. I've never written something like this before. And Anko and Orochimaru have never been my favorite characters. But the idea alighted in my head and would not be shaken out.

Just an interesting look on how Anko might've viewed her Sensei, and what her thoughts might have been while receiving her curse seal.

Comments?

Thankyou for Reading!

LuteLyre


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